


Tears in Heaven

by sans_souci2



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Steve Feels, beginning relatiionship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 06:15:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sans_souci2/pseuds/sans_souci2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little twist to 2.9-<br/>Danny's staying with Steve until he finds a new place of his own and realizes right away that something's wrong.<br/>He's been where Steve is.<br/>It's not easy to get him where he needs to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tears in Heaven

"Will you just go back to bed, Danny?"

“I will when you tell me why you’re sitting out here. _Again_.”

The breeze coming in off the water is making a pretty decent noise in the palms over their heads but it’s not enough for Danny to miss Steve’s sigh. Same with the fact it's the middle of the night-no way does he miss the deep lines across Steve's forehead.

“I like sitting out here; it’s peaceful.”

“At 3am?”

Maybe because it’s the third night in a row they’ve done this drill and Steve’s just too tired to do anything but tell the truth, he does, “Okay fine. Of course I’d rather be sleeping than sitting out here but since I can’t sleep, this is a peaceful alternative to laying in bed and worrying that I should be.”

“I kinda figured it wasn’t entirely voluntary.”

“Now will you go back to bed?”

“Sorry babe, no can do.” Danny drops down in the chair next to Steve’s.

“Why?”

“Same reason as you. Now that I’m wide awake, I’d just toss and turn.”

“Come on Danny. Go.”

“Look, I’ve been your grateful houseguest for three days now and it’s been the same deal every night. Is it me or is this pretty much your modus operandi?”

“What are you even asking?”

“I’m asking if my presence is messing with your circadian rhythms, or, if you always wind up out here in the middle of the night?”

Steve shakes his head, “Go back inside, Danny.”

“I will when you answer my question. Did you sleep okay before I moved in?”

“Jesus, what is it with you? The answer is no; sleeping okay hasn’t been in my playbook for a while. There, are you happy?”

Happy and the way Danny looks are also not in the same playbook. He stares out into the darkness mulling over what he just heard.

Steve says nothing.

A Coqui frog shifts into high gear to fill their sudden silence; a lone Nightjar throws in a throaty warble to help its cause.

“So how long have you been keeping the frogs company?”

“Since I moved back.”

"So, before you moved back, you slept okay?”

“Yeah," Steve shrugs. "I guess.”

“You sound tired.”

“I am tired." Steve's shoulders droop. "I’m so fucking tired.”

“But you can’t sleep?”

“Please, Danny.” Steve squeezes his temples like his head is pounding.

Maybe seeing Gracie through the minefield days of the divorce when she hurt so bad but couldn’t find words for her pain is what makes Danny so determined to help Steve find them for his.

Or, maybe a more distant memory is what does it.

Whatever it is, he’s not backing down.

“I’m not liking this anymore than you are, Steve, but the fact is that if you can’t sleep, you’ve got to find out why and do something about it. Sitting out here and keeping the night crawlers company is getting you nowhere fast.”

“And how do you propose I do that?” Steve asks, glaring at Danny. “And if you tell me to go see a worthless shrink I swear to God I’ll kick your ass out of my house right now.”

“Good news, buddy- I hate them as much as you do.”

“So what is your sage, middle-of-the-night advice?”

“Just tell me what’s eating at you.”

“Nothing’s eating at me.”

“Yes it is. There always is when a person can’t do something as essential as sleep. Take me for example. For five months I slept maybe three hours a night because my brain needed the other five to replay every minute of my marriage and rub my nose in the fact that I had not only ruined it but that I had ruined my life and my daughter’s.”

“That’s not true, Dan-“

“Of course it's not. I know that now but at the time I was convinced otherwise.”

“Well I don’t have any thing like that messing up my head.”

“So what kind of thing do you have messing up your head?”

Steve sighs. His head makes a soft thud when he lays it back against the chair. "It’s not messing up my head but …I think a lot about my …Dad …about his murder.”

“No surprise there.”

Like he didn’t hear Danny, “I replay every damn second, from when my phone rang and I saw it was him, to when I heard the gunshot and knew he was dead.”

“Does it pretty much tear up your gut every time you do it?”

“Pretty much.”

“I read the transcript of the call.”

Steve says nothing.

“Your dad said he loved you.”

“Please Danny, stop.”

“That he didn't say it enough.”

“What the hell are you trying to do!” Steve’s voice is suddenly ragged; his eyes bright with unshed tears.

“I’m trying to help you.”

“Well it’s not working! You think it helps to remind me that my dad loved me when I was the one who got him killed? You think that helps?”

“How did you get him killed?”

“Don’t play shrink with me, God damn it!”

“No. I want to know, Steve. Tell me. How did doing your job the way you were trained to get your father killed?”

“Shut up! Just shut up!” Steve bolts up out of the chair and nearly stumbles he’s so frantic to get away.

“Go ahead, run!” Danny calls as he chases after him. “You might be Mr. Tough Guy when you’re up against big bad criminals but look how fast you take off when someone tries to make you face the truth.”

Steve spins around, “I don’t know what truth it is you think you’re peddling- I’m only running because I don’t want to slam my fist into your damn face.”

“Go ahead, I don’t care- hit me if you want to.”

“I just said I don’t want to. All I want is for you to leave me the fuck alone!”

“So you can wallow in your misplaced guilt?”

The only warning Danny gets is the ragged breath Steve takes before he curls his hand into a fist. When Steve’s knuckles make impact, Danny's head flies back and his cheek splits open. He sees stars and feels warm blood running down his face but somehow manages to lower his head and charge, coming at Steve so fast and low that he sends him sprawling on his back.

Once they’re down and grappling with each other in the sand,  instinct takes over. They punch and kick and roll until cold salty water suddenly rushes up over them.

It’s the equivalent of throwing water on fighting cats or dogs.

Except animals don't cry.

When Steve finally untangles himself and goes to stand up he only stands for a second before he drops back down on his hands and knees.

It’s like an invisible opponent is coming after him the way he lowers his head and rounds his shoulder.

Then it hits like the breakers crashing a few feet away. The first sob rips its way out of his throat.

Followed by another.

And another.

Knowing that it has to happen - that he can’t shortcut it, Danny crouches next to him and watches. He hears the strangled keening sound Steve is making and puts his arm around him and tells him it’s okay.

"Let it all out, Steve, that's it." When Steve sinks against him, limp and out of breath, Danny holds onto him and says over and over again, _"_ I got you."

He must have said it twenty times- _I got you._

Thankfully, the most intense storms are usually the shortest.

When Steve’s sobs taper off, Danny helps him stand and drags him to dry sand where they both collapse. Huddled side by side they sit and stare out at the moonlit surf.

Steve finally breaks the silence. “I’m sor…ry.”

“For what?”

“I …I….just couldn’t stop.”

“Hitting me or crying?”

“Both.”

“Well you had good reason for both. I wasn’t all that sensitive the way I said what I said.”

After a few uneven breaths Steve’s body relaxes just a little and he asks, “What did you mean?”

“About what?”

“What did you mean when you said I was running from the truth?”

“I think you wanted me to shut up because I was going to tell you that you weren’t guilty for your dad's death-that the only person guilty for it is the man who pulled the trigger.”

“And why would I run from that?”

“Maybe because the pain that comes from blaming yourself helps distract you from the pain of losing your father.”

For a while there’s just the sound of the waves and the breeze in the palms.

Then, in classic McGarrett style, which means with no warning, Steve edges out on some of the most terrifyingly thin ice he’s ever risked navigating. “There’s this ache in my chest.. all the time. I just want to see my dad again. Just for a little while. I want to feel his arms around me and hear his voice. I want him to see that I’m …I’m okay- that I’ve made my way in the world, halfway decently.”

“He knows that Steve …I swear to God he does."

There's no reaction from Steve but Danny's pretty sure he's listening so he goes on. "And he’s proud as hell of you. If he could tell you, he would.”

“I should have come home to visit; I let my work take over my life. Hell I didn’t even let myself have a life.”

“Both you and your dad are cut from the same cloth, Steve. Maybe God or Allah or whoever’s up there calling the shots wanted you both to be 100 percent focused on what you do because the world would be a hell of a lot less safe if you weren’t.”

“No. I was selfish, Danny. Every time they asked me to head up an op I packed my gear and took off without thinking twice.”

“Some people call that dedicated; a few might even throw in words like patriotic or loyal.”

Steve huffs then brushes at his cheek. “I don’t know why but I’m crying like a girl, tonight."

"No you’re not. You’re crying like a man who loved his father and lost him. It hurts Steve …it hurts like hell. It wont’ always, in fact, one day you’ll be able to think of your dad and just smile. There’s this shitty thing you have to live through, first, though, called grief. It’s like a damn prison sentence-there’s no way around doing your time.”

Steve gives him a confused frown.

“You can try like you've been doing and jump right back to work and say you’re fine but it’ll come back and bite you in the ass every time.”

“What am I supposed to do Danny?”

“Tough as it is, you have to let yourself feel the pain of your dad’s death. And then you have to put the pain into words… like you just did. You have to tell me or someone else or even just the ocean that you miss him, that you regret all the things you never got to tell him or hear him say. Stupid as it sounds after you put it into words, the thousand pound weight on your chest will get a little lighter. Don’t ask me why, but it will.”

Steve still looks confused but he seems to want him to go on so Danny does, “It’s a fucking rough road you gotta go down; it hurts so bad some days you don't even want to get out of bed. And the real pisser is you have to do it by yourself-no one can do it for you.”

They’re both quiet. The waves breaking in front of them and the breeze picking up in the palms above them fills the void until Steve asks softly, “How’d you get to be so smart about …all of this?”

Danny stares out over the water.

“I asked a question, Danny?”

“I heard you.”

“Well?”

“I’m not …smart. I’ve just been there.”

Steve looks over and sees the tears on Danny’s cheeks.“What are you talking about? What happened?”

It takes Danny a while to answer. When he does, at least at first, he can’t look Steve in the eye.

“There was another Williams I never told you about.”

“Tell me, now. Please Danny.”

Danny takes a breath and holds it. It’s like he needs all the oxygen he can get to say what he says next.

“I had a kid brother …he was two years older than Matt.”

After he says it Danny takes another deep breath “He died a week before his thirteenth birthday.”

After a few more shaky deep breaths, “He was blonde haired and blue eyed and worshiped the freaking ground I walked on.”

It’s like each word Danny says slices through his soul.

“What …happened?”

“He was horsing around at a quarry near our house the way twelve year olds do and got tangled up in some construction debris that some morons had dumped in the water …by the time his buddies got him free …it was …too late.

“Oh God Danny.”

It's like he doesn't even hear Steve, “I loved him so much. I coached his little league team; I drove him to his friends' houses; I was going to teach him how to drive when it was time.”

“That must have been unbearable."

"It was."

They're both quiet for a second and then Steve says, "Thank God you had Matt.”

There's no missing the way Danny rears back or the deep breath he takes.

“Listen Steve, I love Matt and always will, despite what he’s done, but there’s no way he could ever replace Greg.” Danny looks down at his lap, ”There are little league games that will never be played and beers that will never be snuck out of the house and hickies that will never be hidden with Clerasil because my kid brother was snatched away when he was twelve God damn years old.”

After he say it, Danny buries his face in his hands and sobs.

Steve’s arm instantly goes up around him. "It's okay, man. Let it out," he murmurs again and again until Danny’s tears finally stop.

“I’m sorry to lay this on you,” Danny says wiping at his cheek.

“What do you mean, you’re sorry? What was all that you just told me about grief?”

Danny sniffs but he’s starting to smile as he does it. “So, you were listening to me?”

“Yeah, I was listening.”

“Good. So do you think maybe we can go to sleep now?”

“Yeah. I think we can.”

They stand up slowly and stiffly like old men, both of them sheepish and hesitant to make eye contact.

“Come on you big lug, we got to be at work in just a few hours.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Steve says, draping his arm over Danny’s shoulders as they start back to the house. “We, Detective Williams, are taking tomorrow off.”

“Oh we are, are we?”

“Yes we are and after we sleep as long as we want to, you and I are going out for the best pancake breakfast you ever sank your teeth into.”

“There’s gonna be an eyebrow or two raised if we both call in.”

Steve laughs and shrugs and keeps his arm right where it is. “Who cares?”

They keep walking and when they get to the outdoor shower, strip off their wet clothes and use it together.

Turns out it’s the first of a lot of things they wind up doing together.


End file.
